


A Strange Bunch

by Rhiw



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV), Superman - All Media Types
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Cassandra Cain - Freeform, Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bat Brothers, Bat Family, Beta Tim Drake, Bottom Clark Kent, F/F, F/M, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Martha Kent is a goddess, Mpreg, Omega Christopher Kent, Omega Clark Kent, Omega Dick Grayson, Omega Kara Zor-El, Omega Mon-El, Superfamily (DCU), The Waynes are not READY for the Kents, Until Zod comes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-10-07
Packaged: 2020-05-14 12:15:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19273102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: By the time Bruce had brought Damian into the fold - bringing his swelling family to a rather robust number of five - Alfred had let him know, not so discreetly, that it may be time to hire a nanny. Bruce had expected the agency to send him a bookish, well-educated maiden Omega-Aunt. Not...not Clark Kent.In which the Waynes are not prepared for the Kents, at all.





	1. Prologue: Bruce

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a birthday gift for my bff, who requested "the Kents are a bunch of loving, super chill and inclusive all-Omega household. They meet the Waynes somehow, a mostly Alpha household, and gaslight them into being one giant family with all the fluff and good feelings. AND THEN ZOD." Request was to include as many of the extensive families as I could (a challenge, damn you DC!) Gotham the TV show is the background here, with both Jim and Alfred (and their rather complicated relationship) pulled from those characters. Though its a slight nod to the show.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy it as well. Here's a little look into how Bruce became the Bruce of this AU.

When Bruce is ten, he meets his extended family for the first time. Gabrielle Kane looked so much like Bruce’s mother that it’s a physical hurt to see her. She has the same auburn hair, the same bright green eyes – she even wears her hair in a similar manner. And she carries the same, calming scent of apples and linen that his mother had. She and his mother had never been close as adults; Jacob Kane was a hard man to be around, Bruce had been told, and Jacob and Thomas Wayne had never got along.

Given that both the Kanes were currently enlisted in the military, the gap between the sisters had only grown. Bruce had never met them; not really. He’d seen their photos and got presents in the mail on Christmas and his birthday, saw the holiday greeting cards they sent. Nothing that actually made them seem like real, actual people. To meet them now, standing in the rain before his parents’ grave was surreal. There are two young girls with them; omega-twins by their scent, with identical faces and bright red hair, both in the same black dress. The only differences between the two are their freckles; one has them all over her chin, her forehead, her cheeks, the other only over the bridge of her nose. Their names Bruce know abstractly, Katherine and Elizabeth, but like their parents they were never more than an idea to him - a vague concept. He doesn’t know what to say to them, which is fine, as they say nothing to him.

Later that night, the three of them sit awkwardly in the formal living room of the Wayne Manor, listening as Jacob and Gabrielle Kane give excuses about why they will not take Bruce with them. _“We’re active, you see,”_ Jacob explains to a silent Alfred, _“we’re deployed often, Jacob’s mother practically raises our girls as it is – she’s elderly, the strain is already so much,”_ Gabrielle adds. _“We’ll write frequently,”_ Jacob pledges, _“and visit every holiday,”_ Gabrielle promises.

Alfred’s silence is telling, even through the plaster and wood, and from where he sits, Bruce can’t help but feel a stab of pleasure at how awkward and guilty his Aunt and Uncle sound under the weight of that silent judgement. _Good,_ he thinks, biting back tears and feeling an anger grow in his stomach that would eventually take him down a path he can never turn from, _good. We don’t need them anyway._

They leave the house that night.

Bruce does not see any of them again for years.

* * *

Nearly three years later, Jacob Kane graces Wayne Manor once more. The Alpha looks nothing like he did all those years ago; his skin his pale, his expression weary and exhausted. There is only one girl with him now, who he is told is Katherine, and as Bruce takes her in blank expression, her bright red hair loose and tangled around her drawn face, he knows that she is a broken thing.

When Jacob stumbles through his platitudes and explanations, each one sounding more strained and more incoherent, Bruce interrupts him abruptly. “She can stay as long as she needs.”

This, after all, a house for a broken things.

What’s one more?

* * *

Katherine does not leave the room Alfred gives her for days. Bruce does his best to ignore her, keeps up his vigil of Gordon’s movements in Gotham, tracking the complicated and almost Shogan-ish political battles that go on between the various king and queen pins of Gotham’s underbelly. Detective Gordon is a frequent visitor to the house and Bruce finds that his admiration for the Omega man grows immensely. He looks forward to Gordon’s almost daily visits, welcomes him to join in dinner with him, to have coffee and warm milk respectively with Alfred and himself afterwards. Gordon is always welcomed here; he is one of the few people that doesn’t treat Bruce like a child, or like the broken thing he may be. Despite how often he comes and goes from Wayne Manor, Bruce doesn’t even think Gordon knows that Katherine's staying with them.

The girl is a ghost.

Bruce does not intend to interrupt her isolation; he remembers the ice that seemed to wrap around every inch of him during those first few months after his own parents’ death. He knows what it is to see the bodies of the ones he loves. A part of Bruce wonders morbidly what it would to be like to see a dead body wearing your face, what Katherine had felt when she had gazed down at Elizabeth’s lifeless corpse.

Katherine starts to walk the halls at night, her hair stringy and unwashed, her grey eyes blank and distant. Bruce sees her every now and then, often from his study or the kitchen, but he does little to interrupt her wanderings. Alfred, however, is an absurdly gentle man, a gentle Alpha  (and everything that Bruce quietly hopes to be) and he always guides her back to bed when he finds her and Bruce wonders why he even bothers.

He mentions it to Gordon one day, the Omega’s face clearly troubled when he learns of the girl’s presence in the manor. He watches Bruce as the young Alpha explains how she came to stay with them, of her mother and twin sister’s death at the hands of extremists, and his face holds no judgement when Bruce announces that he intends to leave her be and that he doesn’t understand why Alfred wishes he would do otherwise.

 _“I think,”_ Gordon says slowly, _“that Alfred does it more for you, than for Katherine, Bruce. And…you two share a rare bond, don’t you? Who better to help her through this than you, her only family left?”_

Gordon’s words pick at him, digs its claws into his consciousness until it became a plaguing thought. Eventually it solidified into something else; a strange resentment mixed with frustration. Had Bruce not lost everything as well? Did he lock himself away, refuse to eat or wash like a common animal? No, instead he had sworn to bring to change – to bring his parents’ murderers to justice and ensure that no one else ever had to feel the same way he had _._

Why did Katherine get to hide away? Waste away? 

He cornered her one night in the east wing, stepping front of her and blocking her listless feet. Katherine blinked at him, then once more, before trying to move past him. Bruce blocked her, then again and again as she tried to pass him. He does it over and over again, until – there, at last, there is life in those dull grey eyes.

“Move!” The Omega girl hisses, sounding furious.

“Make me," Bruce growls right back.

Alfred finds them roughly ten minutes later, drawn from his own rooms by the sound of their fight. The hallway is a mess; the tall vases and sculptures – priceless, truly – have been knocked off their display bases and shattered. A chair has been broken somehow in the brawl, and Bruce think it may be from the Warring States period in Japan. Bruce has a black eye – Katherine has two. Alfred barked an order for them to stop, the sound of his accent all that harsher with his Alpha voice, physically pulling the two pups apart.

“Oi!” Alfred seethed, “what’s all this now?”

“He was being a jerk!”

“I can’t stand her acting like a spoiled brat anymore!”

Alfred all but frog-marches then by their ears to the kitchen, sitting them both on opposite sides of the island. He points at them warningly, eyes narrowed. “I’m going to get the first aid kit; you two sit there and be good. Don’t talk, don’t even look at each other. Another fight like that and I’ll ground you both until the cows come home. Am I clear?”

“Crystal.” Bruce grumbled, while Katherine nodded sourly.

There’s a muffle voice from the hallway and both children freeze, eyes wide, when they catch sight of _Detective Gordan,_ hair ruffled and in a very familiar set of plaid pajamas – and then the Omega is gone from sight. the two children look at each other, eyes wide.

“Did he and Alfred just-”

“Those are Alfred’s pajamas!”

“Ohmy _god,”_ his cousin manages from behind her hands, the knuckles bruised and fingers swollen, her eyes already starting to puff and close. “Alfred got _lucky.”_

Bruce is unsure of who starts giggling first, but suddenly they both are. Their giggles grow louder and louder, until they burst into laughter when a confused Alfred enters the kitchen once more, the first aid kit in one hand.

Its clear the Alpha has no idea what’s going on, but the smile that breaks over his face at the sight of the laughing pups is as bright as it is relieved.

* * *

Kate’s – and she’s Kate now, never Katherine, she hates Katherine – father comes to collect her three months later. Bruce is sorry to see her go, but he takes one look at the relieved expression on her face when Kate catches sight of Jacob Kane standing in their doorway – the Alpha looking put together and militaristic once more – and says nothing.

He knows Kate had secretly thought her father would never return to her and that she’d lost all her family. They promise to keep touch and they do; Kate visits every Thanksgiving and Christmas, always traveling on her own, always without her father. Bruce is always happy to see her, even when they start to age. They get drunk together for the first time when Bruce was sixteen and Kate was fourteen, drunk off of scotch that Bruce had found in his father’s old study. They lay on their bellies before a wide fireplace, breathless from laughter as they recount the moment they’d walked in on Alfred and the now Commissioner Gordon in the laundry room the year before. Alfred had been furious, Gordon embarrassed beyond belief, but it had been worth it for the expressions on their face when he and Kate had come barging in.

“That’s when I knew, you know.” Kate admitted, still somewhat breathless from their laughter.

“Hm?” Bruce asked, eyes closed and head fuzzy from the drink.

Kate is quiet for a long moment and Bruce almost open his eyes to look at her when she speaks. “That’s when I knew I liked Omegas. Other Omegas. I think I’m…I think I'm gay.”

Bruce knew about gay people. He’d seen same-sexed Betas together, but he’d never seen two Omegas together of any sex. Nor that of any Alphas. He wonders how that could even work. Would it have to be a male Omega and a female Omega? But how would they handle their heat without an Alpha? Or have kids? But he can feel Kate growing tenser and tenser next to him, so Bruce reaches out and fumbles for her hand. He grasps it, pulling it to his chest. Kate relaxes all at once, letting out a watery sigh.

“Don’t tell my father.”

“Promise you won’t steal my girlfriends. Or my boyfriends.”

“Never, Wayne.”

* * *

When Bruce takes up the mantle of Batman, Kate is busy at Westpoint. He thinks, sometimes, about bringing her in on his secret, but Kate didn’t deserve that. Knowing Kate, she’d drop out of school or something equally stupid and insist on following him around to keep him safe. Kate was a fierce woman, but that didn’t mean that she was infallible. And while the military was hardly the safest occupation, it was what Kate wanted to do.

She was the only family he had left – he wanted Kate to live out her dreams and desires.

Alfred, of course, is family as well. But that first year, Alfred has his hands full trying to help Bruce navigate his life as head of Wayne enterprises and that of Batman. And though Bruce had never directly asked him, he rather suspected that Alfred had another reason to be distracted. That of a brown-haired newborn girl that Gordon had delivered earlier that year. A space had grown between Alfred and Gordon, one that Bruce didn’t dare ask for clarification on. So he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself and gave the rather reluctant Alpha an extra night off a week.

Just because Bruce’s life was nothing but work, doesn’t mean Alfred’s had to be. He could only hope that the two worked out whatever differences they had, if for no other’s sake then that of baby Barbara.

Ironically, Bruce becomes a father not long after Alfred officially admitted that he was as well. The relationship between Alfred and Gordon was still distant, but there was no doubt in Bruce’s mind that Alfred’s nights off was spent at a rather nice duplex located in south Bristol. Dick, though, is completely unexpected. Bruce had never entertained the idea of having children – never in his wildest dreams.

But that night - that night that Haly’s Circus had performed in Gotham.

Seeing Dick, so small and tiny at six, bright eyes wide and teary, his gentle pup scent radiating in distress, his little hands covered in his family’s blood…it struck Bruce deeply, was far too reminiscent of his own loss. That night he left the circus with Dick cradled against his chest, the little Omega asleep from the strength of his own tears, and had known – _known_ that Dick would not be leaving his side.

Having a child in life – much less an _Omega_ child – changed it entirely. Though he hadn’t sired him, Bruce came to love the pup just as deeply if he did. Coming home after an exhausting day of playing the brainless scion or a bruising night from the streets to Dick’s smiling face, his little voice happy chirps and squeals as he greeted him, was a balm Bruce didn’t know he needed. Kate adored her adopted nephew just as deeply, and Bruce had to talk to her more than once about spoiling him. Jacob Kane had married a rather wealthy heir, and as the elderly Omega had no children of his own, he gave Kate whatever she wanted. Kate mainly used it to get drunk, pick up Omegas, and buy things to spoil Dick with.

It was shortly after Dick’s eighth birthday that Kate was kicked out of Westpoint. She was silent and evasive on the whole affair, but Bruce had found out the details after hacking Westpoint’s computer system. He didn’t know what was worse, that Kate had lost her promising military career – one that had meant everything to her – or that she’d lost the Omega she had been in love with.

She scattered to the wind, funded easily by hers step-father's money. He tracked her down eventually, drunk as a skunk in Singapore, but the Omega had told Bruce where to shove it and after some thought – Bruce decided to give her some space. Not too much, but enough. He remembered when she was a child, he knew how she needed to grieve. But just like back when they were children, Bruce would only let her pout so long.

He meant to go get her, he really did, but then Jason happened.

* * *

Bruce honestly wasn’t looking for more children; but then the waif of an Alpha, all bark and no bite, had the nerve to try and steal the batmobile’s hubcaps and then _lie_ to Batman about it, even though he’d caught him in the act. Bruce had followed the pup home more out of amusement then anything else, just wanting to make sure he made it home safe. What he’d found in Jason’s apartment – if the condemned thing he was living in could even be called that – had stuck with him. A drug addict for a mother, an abusive father, a kitchen devoid of food. Calling social services wasn’t something Bruce had wanted to do, but he’d felt ethically bound to do so.

And when Jason had been placed in the system, burning through foster homes quicker than they could be found – well, Bruce had felt responsible. By this point, Dick was ten and was serving as Robin. It was something that Bruce had been weary about at first, but Dick had just ignored him and gone out on his own in the night much to his horror. And he kept going out, no matter how hard Bruce tried to keep him from doing so, with nothing but a red hoodie to keep his identity safe. After that…well, Alfred had made an executive decision and made him a suit.

It took Jason all of a month to find out who they were and what they were doing, and had wanted to join in too. But Bruce had enough on his hands with training Robin, and having a ten-year-old in the field was already nerve wracking enough (even if Dick was astonishingly good at it, his experience as an acrobat giving him a natural edge), there was no way that Bruce was going to let an eight-year-old out there as well. It was enough of a weight on his conscious that he let Dickie do it.

But Jason’s tenth birthday rolled around quicker than Bruce had ever imagined, and he had to be content in the fact that he’d trained the boy intensely every day since the little Alpha had made his demand to join their team. And so, Dick became Nighthawk, Jason became the new Robin – and Kate came barging back into their lives. She was an utter mess, destroyed without a purpose and very close to being a full blown alcoholic. Kate had always been a woman who needed a cause, who needed something to dedicate her life to, and making her Batwoman had been a mercy, more than anything else. And it worked, too. The responsibility of going out night after night had caused her drinking problem to all but disappear, and Kate looked driven and focused for the first time in nearly five years.

There was also the added benefit of having more boots on the ground. With two fully trained adults – one trained by the Assassin’s League, the other by US special forces – Bruce felt relief for the first time in years. Nightwing and Robin were always nearby one of them, just in case.

* * *

Bruce became a father for the third time when an orphan named Tim Drake hacked into the computer in the cave. Bruce had been utterly enraged when he’d uncovered the hacking, convinced that it was a criminal enterprise. It was a draw to say who was more shocked when Batman came busting into the windows of a rundown boys' home’s computer lab at three in the morning; Bruce or the eight-year-old Beta in a Wookie onesie and oversized neon pink headphones.

Kate had cackled behind her mask, utterly lost at the sight of the two of them staring at each other, and Bruce knew she’d most likely never let him live that moment down. And so Timmy came to stay with them, though Bruce had been ‘blackmailed’ by the young boy into adopting him. It was kinda adorable.

* * *

Cassandra followed shortly after Tim. Bruce had felt responsible for her as well, though he had a more visceral hand in removing her parents from her life. If you had told Bruce years ago that he’d be responsible for David Cain – one of his first mentor’s – deaths, he would have laughed in your face. But David was a different man, broken and mad, and Bruce’s hand had been forced.

He had never expected to find a little Alpha girl with no voice, no older than four at the most, staring at him with wide eyes, a knife clutched in one hand, her eyes glossy as she stared at her dead father’s form. But instead of being afraid of him, Cassandra had hugged herself to his knees, pulling away just far enough for her little hands to sign _‘thank you, thank you.”_

And so, he brought another child home to Wayne Manor.

* * *

The biggest surprise of Bruce’s life, though, came when Talia showed up on his doorstep with Damian, hands folded behind his back and spine so very straight for a six-year-old.

“This is your son, Wayne,” Talia had stated with no inflection, dropping a bag by his feet, “he will stay with you while I handle matters back…” Her eyes darted to Bruce’s adopted sons and daughter, “…home.”

And then she turned on her heel, disappearing into the dark. Damian didn’t even turn to watch her go. The little Alpha boy’s eyes were sharp and evaluating as he took in Bruce and his shocked children, before glancing about the extensive entryway of Wayne Manor imperiously. He nodded once.

“This will do.” His small voice had declared, every note imbued with authority and highhandedness. “Show me to my room, I wish to rest.”

“Oh _hell_ no.” Jason pointed at – at Bruce’s _son_ – with an annoyed finger. “No, Bruce. I’m drawing the line. We’re not keeping him.”

* * *

 

They kept him.

 

* * *

A week after Damian’s rather dramatic arrival, Alfred pulled him aside, and politely – but sternly – told Bruce to find a nanny.

“I adore your giving heart, lad,” the aging Alpha had said with a small smile, “but that’s five if you count Barbara, and she's here more often then not, and three of them are little’uns. Between running the house and, eh, keeping the basement in order, I just don’t have time to give Damian and Cassandra the time they both need right now. Nor the training, actually.”

“Damian-”

“Needs therapy, Bruce, and probably a behavior specialist if you ever want him to be able to attend school without gutting another child. And Cassandra needs a dedicated speech therapist. Both will need to be home schooled a bit if I had a guess.”

“You did fine with me.”

“I lucked out with you, boy.” Alfred said with a grin, “and Jimmy helped out as well. And I’m afraid he’s a little too busy with running GPD and raising Babs to pull another trick like that out of his hat.”

“Alfred-”

Alfred just ignored him, shoving a pile of folders into Bruce’s hold. “I’ve taken the liberty of compiling a list of highly qualified agencies that specialize in having nanny’s that are trained in childhood education and/or behavior. There’s even a few that boast employees fluent in ASL. I put my favorites on top.”

“Alfred-”

“I left dinner in the oven, the colds are in the fridge. Now, I’ve got to go.” Alfred threw the disgruntled Alpha a wink, “it’s Wednesday-”

“And Wednesday’s are one of your nights off.”

“Correct,” Alfred gave him a wide smile, “and Jimmy will skin me alive if I’m late for dinner.”

Three weeks later, after a few more (and far more aggressive hints) from Alfred, Bruce finally went back to the list. After a moment of staring at it blankly, he hit speed dial on his phone.

“Hey Kate? Yeah, I’m calling in that favor. Uh huh. I need you to look into some nannies for me – no, I’m not kidding. Stop laughing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be another Prologue, this time following Clark. If you guys don't know Mon-El, go google him. He was obscure until they used him in Supergirl.


	2. Prologue: Clark

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How Clark became Clark.

Clark Kent’s first memory was of stars. Even as he grew to his teenage years in Kansas, Clark still had dreamed every so often of the black expanse of space all around him, dotted with the brilliant globes of stars. Later, years later, he would learn that these images must have come from when he was just a newborn, just before he’d been put to sleep in his pod.

Sometimes – rarely – he remembers a woman’s voice, soft and sweet, singing to him.

But mostly, he dreams of stars.

* * *

Clark was seven when the world starts to fall apart around him. At least that what it feels like to him. The first time it happens, he honestly believes the world is ending. In the span of one breath and the next, everything is too loud, too bright, too clear. Everything had a smell, everything a sound – and Clark felt  everything so strongly he’s afraid he’s going to break apart from it.

It happened at school, which makes Clark even more of an outcast than he already is. The worst of is that he scares everyone; his classmates, the older kids, his teacher, the school nurse Mrs. Gilbert (a retired doctor from Keystone City who used to go to high school with his folks and was always so nice to Clark). It seemed to go on forever, though Clark would learn later that it was only around an hour or so, but it was more than enough time for his mother to come and rescue him. Its her voice, her sweet heartbeat, the steady sound of her breath as it left her lungs, that finally breaks him free from it all.

Mrs. Gilbert pulled his mother aside after she’s bundled him up in the truck and Clark doesn’t mean to listen in, but he can’t help but hear. They speak quietly, throwing around words that Clark doesn’t understand like ‘hypersensitivity,’ ‘short attention span,’ and ‘autism.’ Mrs. Gilbert sounded convinced and concerned, kind and gentle, like she’s breaking bad news and Ma is utterly open and just as kind in accepting it, but Clark can tell she doesn’t believe those words. He can tell Mrs. Gilbert can tell that too, because she gives his mother a pitying look before walking back to the school.

Later, back on the farm, a grim-faced Jonathan Kent takes him into one of the barely used storage barns on their land and he learns why his mother doesn’t believe he has autism.

* * *

Learning that he wasn’t human is…intense. In retrospect, learning that you were adopted would be a lot for any child to take all on its own, but learning you’re an alien? So, Clark supposed he could be forgiven for how utterly withdrawn he became after learning those things. When his teachers and the school counselor intervene – concerned not only about Clark’s ‘episodes,’ but by how utterly withdrawn he became, Clark's parents explain it away by saying Clark's having a hard time accepting that he's adopted.

It's not a total lie. Clark had always felt different from the other kids – and didn’t that all make sense now? – but now…now, Clark didn’t speak, didn’t try to sit with anyone. He didn't feel like he had a right too.

He isolated himself from anything and everyone, including his parents. He wasn’t angry, exactly, not at them. He could understand why they’d kept it all from. But it was a lot. It was a lot. And Clark _was_ angry, he just had no idea where to direct it all. Why had he been sent to Earth? Where were his real parents? Why did this _have to happen to him?_ Why couldn’t this happen to some other kid? He spent his free time in the fields, with no other company than his pup, Sadie. Sometimes he even spent the night, staring up at the stars and wondering which one of them he came from. He'd always woke up with a blanket over him when he did that and with a warm thermos of tea.

But outside of that, his parents gave him his space and Clark was grateful for that. The episodes, which Mrs. Gilbert called ‘behaviors’ or ‘panic attacks,’ eased over time, Clark slowly learning to dial down his senses one at a time. As the year passed and his eighth birthday came and went, Clark was able to assert some sense of control over his life. Still, he stayed out in the fields more often than not, and he hadn't made any friends.

Out there, Clark could almost pretend that he was the only person on Earth. There, no knew he different, no one knew he wasn’t human – that _he_ didn’t know he was different. It was a cold night in September when a meteorite struck Clark’s farm. It’s in the middle of the night and Clark was sleeping in a nest of blankets his mother had left for him by the door before he'd left for the night. Sadie was curled up with him, her body a perfect heater even if Clark didn’t really ever seem to truly feel cold. For a moment Clark almost ignored it, snuggled under his quilts and comforted by the steady beat of his parents’ sleeping heartbeats three miles away. But he’s eight and well…he’s _eight._ So, he climbed from his nest, interest peaked, and followed the sound to their south-eastern most cornfield.

He didn’t know what he expected to find there, but a small spaceship at the center of a cretor was not it. For a long moment he stared, stunned, before his heartbeat began to race with excitement. A hundred different thoughts ran through his mind, but all of them are silenced he hearsld the sound of a heartbeat inside, one that was growing more and more sluggish. With a cry, Clark threw himself into the crater. Within one of those slowing heartbeats and the next, he had the cockpit cover pulled off.

He stared at the boy inside; only a few years older than himself if even that, with dark brown hair and skin completely pale in a way that spoke of danger and unhealthiness. He reached in to pull the…the _alien,_ an _alien_ just like Clark – out and blue eyes snapped open to stare at him, hostile and frightened.

“Don’t touch me!” The boy shouted, weakly smacking Clark’s seeking hands away and trying to climb from the craft. “Don’t….don’t touch me. Leave me alone!”

“It’s okay,” Clark said softly, “it’s okay. I won’t hurt you. You’re safe.”

He repeated those words, over and over again, until he was darting forward to catch the other boy as he falls from the ship. The boy was shaking, his entire body shaking like a leaf, like he could fall apart at any moment. He kept telling the boy that he’s safe, that he’s okay, that Clark won’t hurt him, until the boy finally stilled. His parents arrived at some point, the lights from their flashlights cutting across the black of the night as they approached.

The boy tensed in his arms at the sound, his shivers restarting anew, and Clark began his litany of comforts again.

“…Clark?” The sound of his father’s voice, cautious and concerned, had Clark looking up at his parents. They’re both pale in the darkness, eyes wide as they stare down at the two of them.

“Dad,” Clark breathes out, barely able to keep the awe and excitement from his voice, “he’s like me! He’s even a Omega, he’s just like me!”

His parents exchanged a long look, then his mother kneeled down next to the crater. “Clark, baby, we can’t understand you.”

And it isn't until that moment – until that very moment – that Clark realized he and the boy hadn’t been speaking English at all.

* * *

Having a big brother is a revelation, though teaching him English was a bit of trial. It helped that he attended a ESL class at school and the boy, Matthew – named after his maternal grandfather – was smart and he seemed to pick up rudimentary English quickly. Ma goes with him to school a month or so after Matt had arrived, armed with adoption papers and a social security card that he has no idea how she got, and explained that he had been adopted from Bosnia; from the same family that they’d adopted Clark from. Apparently, the Kents had taken him in when the adoption agency had contacted them after Clark’s biological mother had died during the violent upheaval that was tearing the country apart. The adults were all very sympathetic.

It was, apparently, sort of an open secret to the adults of Smallville that Clark had been adopted. Any annoyance he felt at being the last one to know he was adopted was quickly lost under the excitement of having someone like himself around.

Clark learns from Matt that his family had been explorers from a colony on Draxia, but he’d been sent away in a escape craft after the had been attacked and decimated. He didn’t know how long ago that was, or even how old he was now, because apparently he’d been asleep in his pod for a long, long time before coming to Earth. But he knew that Clark must also be from Krypton (his home planet – it had a name! Krypton!) because they spoke Kryptonian to each other.

He didn’t know why Clark was on Earth, but Matt figured he must have been sent away for his own protection like he had been. Matt said his father had programmed the pod to find a planet with  life as close to their own species as possible, so that must have also been why Clark had come to Earth. The idea, as unproven as it was, had eased a weight he didn’t know he’d been carrying. Maybe…maybe his birth parents had wanted him after all. Maybe he’d been sent away so he’d be safe.

He had been wanted.

* * *

Matt, it turned out, was a talker, and sarcastic to boot. It was almost hilarious after how quiet he’d been in the beginning, but once he’d really become fluent in English he never shut up. He talked in his sleep, talked when he was getting dressed, talked around his food. His mother and father watched it with a kind of fondness that only parents could have. The speed in which Matt was accepted into his family should have been strange, odd even, but then again – this was a couple that had already adopted one alien child. If not taking Matt in was ever an option, it wasn’t one that Clark ever heard.

Looking back, Clark thinks his parents took Matt in not just because they were honest, good people, but for Clark. Having another kid around that was like him, one who he could wrestle with, throw a ball around with, run with, play with and not hold back? It was life changing. Clark’s entire life seemed to brighten, seemed to be broken into two categories – before Matt and after Matt. They spent hours out in the fields when their chores were down, throwing a baseball or Frisbee or football as far and as hard as they could before racing to get it.

They sat together at school for lunch, played together for recess, and even though Matt was two grades above Clark, the two of them were always seen together. To have a friend, to truly have a friend that knew everything about him, one that he could share everything with, was an unlooked for boon in Clark’s life.

If he was honest, that was probably why his parents were so accepting of Matt in the beginning, not out of any real love. But love did grow. Matt was just _likable,_ in a way that Clark could never really manage. He joked and ribbed until even the meanest of bullies were on his side, charmed their teachers with the lilting accent that still haunted his English, and wooed their neighbors with his easy laugh and kind face. No, it hadn’t taken long at all for Jonathan and Martha Kent to begin to love Matthew Kent like a true son. And Clark loved him like a brother, truly and deeply, and in turn found that love returned. But Matt was also complicated. He had moments of deep sadness, dreams that woke him in sweats and with tears trailing down his face, and the fear of them kept him awake late into the night.

It was on one night like that, almost a year after Matt had arrived, that Clark finally had built up enough courage to ask about the nightmares. He’d laid awake, staring at the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, listening the sound of his adopted brother tossing and turning in his bed, heard his muted and frightened cries, for nearly an hour. When Matt finally woke up with an aborted gasp, it was a draw who was more relieved; Matt or himself.

But it was when Matt rolled onto his side, curling up tightly in a ball sobbing, that Clark finally threw off his covers and cross their small room. He slid into the bed, curling himself around the shaking form. He clung to the taller boy fiercely, wishing desperately he could take whatever pain he was feeling away. He heard the steady footfalls of his father in the hallway, heard the door open a crack, but the hall light stayed off and Clark took that as a sign that his father didn’t want to be acknowledged.

That was something that Clark had to learn the hard way; learning when and when not to engage someone, even if he could see or hear them nearby. It was just not polite, his mother had explained, and even downright spooky when Clark zeroed in on someone when he shouldn’t be able to tell they were there. So, Clark had added it to the rather long list of things he had to learn to appear more human. So, he ignored his father, even when the minutes dragged on into a half hour. It was nearly an hour when the shaking finally stopped, Matt uncurling somewhat.

“Matt?” Clark whispered quietly, his face warm and sweaty from where he had it pressed against his brother’s bare shoulder blades. It was August and even though the house had AC, it was boiling on the second floor.

“Yeah?”

“What do you dream about?”

Matt was quiet for a long time, long enough that Clark almost regretted asking. “My parents…my real parents, I mean. I…When they sent me away, I saw…I saw them die.” Matt’s voice hitched, “right as I left.”

Clark clung to his brother tighter, accidentally ripping the sheet wrapped around Matt before forcibly relaxing his grip. “I’m sorry.” Another long silence. “Matt?”

A watery “yeah?” answered him.

“…do…do you know why they did it? Or who?” Matt just shook his head. “Do you think they’ll come here?” Another mute answer, this time a shrug. Clark set his jaw. “If they do, I’ll protect you.”

That earned him a huffing laugh of a breath and Matt turned to lay on his back, the move awkward with Clark wrapped around him like an octopus. “I don’t think they even know that we’re here, or care.” A rough swallow. “Sometimes people just…do bad things, Clark.”

“That’s stupid.”

Another laugh. “Yeah. It really is. But if they do come, I’ll protect _you,_ Clark. You, and Ma and Pa. I won’t let them take another family from me.”

“We’ll protect each other, then.” Clark insisted, voice firm.  

The next morning, Pa’s morning hug lasted far longer than usual, especially Matt’s.

* * *

Clark was twelve when he and Matt pulled a bus from a lake. His father was furious with them. Furious isn’t even a strong enough word for it, he was angrier than Clark had ever seen him. When he finds out about it, Jonathan Kent alternated between a fierce mauve color he and deathly pale. He’s so angry that for long moments he can’t even speak.

“Now, Jon,” his mother said, voice stern, “go take a walk before you say something you’ll regret.”

And his father does take a walk, a nine hour one. When he returned, it late – late enough that both Matt and Clark are already showered and in bed. They lay awake, listening to a row between their parents the like Clark had never witnessed before. It takes place outside, by one of the barns nearly a mile from the house, but both boys heard it easily and exchanged nervous looks from over their NASA and Robotech bedspreads respectively.

“Jonathan Kent – put that down in come inside. Don’t you think I haven’t had enough of your tantrum, because I swear –”

“Tantrum? Martha, they _pushed_ a bus! What if someone saw?”

“So what if someone saw?” Ma shouted back, “who on Earth would even believe them? Don’t you think you’re overreacting a bit? What were they supposed to do, just let those children drown?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

There was a long, long silence and when Ma spoke again, her voice was quiet and calm, a sound Clark long since learned was a deadly one. “I can’t believe you would even say that. What our sons – _your sons –_ did was _heroic._ And _I_ have never been prouder. Any normal parent would be!”

“But we’re not normal parents, are we?” Pa shot back, his voice so loud that Clark flinched at it. “Normal children can’t push bushes from rivers, Martha, they can’t outrun a train, they can’t bench lift a tractor if they wanted to!”

“Watch it, mister, you’re toeing a line you don’t want to cross.”

“Damn’t, Martha!” And both boys jerked at that – neither of them had ever heard their father curse, though they knew that he had been in Vietnam and the service and had to know plenty of them. “Do you have any idea what the government would do to them if they knew about them? What the world would do to them? I want them _safe,_ not dissected on some goddamn table. They’re my children – I – I have to protect them…”

“…okay, Jon. Hush, _oh darling,_ hush. Just breathe, now. Just breathe.”

And Clark had the horrible, horrible, sinking realization that his father was crying. He felt his own eyes water as he stared up at the ceiling, afraid to even look in Matt’s direction. What they did was good, was the right thing – so why did it feel so terrible?

* * *

The next day, one of his classmate’s mother came to the house, her son a step behind her, looking utterly embarrassed to be there.

She’d seen them.

She’d seen Clark and Matt.

Clark hid in their room with Matt while his parents argue with her, curled up against Matt’s side, and shivered ss he thought of steel tables and scalpels and every horror movie he’d ever seen.

“We have to be more careful.” Matt said, voice hard and unusually grim, “we have to be more careful.”

* * *

When Clark was fourteen and in middle school, he fell in love. Her name was Lana Lang and she was _perfect._ She’s the kind Alpha that Clark had always imagined himself with; sweet and gentle, always willing to give Clark a kind word even if Clark is considered ‘uncool.’ He desperately wanted to catch her attention.

_Desperately._

Maybe that’s why he almost signs up for track. Okay, that’s totally why he almost signs up for track. Lana was Smallville’s joined middle/high school’s star runner. He figured getting her to notice him, like _really_ notice. He could be careful, only win or outpace everyone by enough to be believable. Really, he could. But Matt caught him with the application form, pulls it from his hands from where Clark is (not as subtly as he probably hoped) trying to fill it out in their bedroom. He stared at it for a long, long moment, before handing it back to Clark. His expression is blank and it unsettled Clark, throws the argument his mind was racing to prepare into disarray.

“Do you remember the bus, Clark?” Matt asked, hands in his jean pockets, head cocked to the side. He’s several inches taller than Clark now, well into puberty at sixteen. When Clark noded slowly, wearily, Matt just sighed. “This isn’t just your secret to keep, little bro. It’s my life, too. Try to remember that, okay?”

Clark just gaped at him, his guts twisting as tightly and painfully as if someone had punched him in the stomach. Matt leaves the room and Clark crumbled up the permission slip, guilt a fierce and heavy stone in his chest. Its a lesson that sinks deep and stays.

* * *

Clark was seventeen and desperately missing Matt, who was away at Keystone University for his second year of college. Clark didn’t really know _why_ Matt had to go to college to learn how to farm when he literally lived on a farm. But his parents were keen on the idea and Matt was excited to go, so he went.

God, Clark missed him.

He hadn’t realized just how much of his life was really tangled up with his brother until there was suddenly a Matt shaped hole in it. His parents were understanding of his sulking, promising Clark that he’d understand better next year when it was his turn to go off and experience the world. Clark didn’t believe them. No, that wasn’t right, because Clark was excited. He was wanted to be a journalist – he was a good writer, at least he thought so. He did want to go to school to learn how to be one he just…didn’t like the idea of not being with Matt.

Even with Matt being gone for nearly the whole year before, Clark hadn’t really adjusted to having his main and only friend being gone. It was tough for him. He shared everything with Matt, Matt was his only confident. He was really the one that understood everything about their powers, their heritage. He was even another Omega, the one who had walked Clark through the freighting and alarming world of first periods and how to have the confidence to shop in the Omega section for bras, how to use a condom and birth control. Not that Clark ever had a need to use them. Not having him there to talk to everyday was horrible, even if they spoke constantly on the phone.

Still, he wanted Matt to be happy, it wasn’t like he was going to ask his brother to give up college just because he was lonely. So Clark sucked it up and waited for the return of summer and his brother. He thought waiting was going to be the hardest part of the whole year. He was wrong. So terribly, horribly wrong. Because when Clark was seventeen, Kansas was struck with a devastating storm belt, with some of the most damaging tornadoes the state had ever seen. And Matt did come home, he did leave college.

But now there was a much bigger hole in Clark’s life, one that would never be full again.

* * *

Pa’s death had left Clark rattled, had left them all rattled, and neither Matt nor Clark could imagine leaving Ma alone at first. But by the time Clark was twenty, he was itching at the seams, completely at a loss with himself. He supposed he’d never truly forgive himself for not saving his father, not truly. Not ever. Matt seemed to understand where Clark is at, maybe even better than Clark did, because he gives his blessing and all but kicks Clark out of the house, giving him strict instructions to 'explore and make something of yourself.' Matt stayed on the farm to look after Ma while Clark traveled the world, seeking some sort of purpose. He saw all the landscapes that Earth has to offer, slept among the grasslands of the Serengeti one month, under the cold brilliance of the northern lights of the other. He traveled for two years, until the hollow hole in his heart shrinks enough that he felt like he can finally breathe again. And at the end of it all - he finds the ship.

Meeting his birth father was surreal. Jor-El looked so much like Clark it made his breath catch, an ancient ache that he thought he had long since buried flaring to life at the sight of him. He reached out on instinct, only to feel a bitterness curl in chest that matches the bittersweet smile on Jor-El’s face when his hand slips through the hologram.

“You have your mother’s eyes.” His father said, his voice so full of love that Clark finds himself breaking down, shoulders shaking as he hides his face from this queer ghost, and is unable to quiet himself for some time. Jor-El waits him out, his expression gentle, and when Clark finally managed to get a hold of himself, gave him a small smile.“Come, Kal-El," (his name, his  _real_ name, Clark had a _name)_ , "let me show you the truth of your people.”

When he finally returned home, Clark knows thirteen languages fluently and has a decent grasp on four more. He knows that he can run faster than trains now, can leap higher than buildings if he wants to, he knows he can fly. He knows his name - his birth name - and why he was sent away. Clark lived his whole life waiting for answers and now that they're answered, its like he'd suddenly regained a missing limb. For the first time in his life, Clark felt whole.

* * *

He took Matt with him to the crashed ship the next day, because he wanted him to meet Jor-El. It was only mid-flight that Clark realized that Matt may have answers if his own he wanted answered. Jor-El watched them with great interest, looking as real and hale as any living creature even though he’s nothing more than a collection of projected light and images. He walked slowly around Matt, examining him from his booted feet to his stained plaid work shirt. “Interesting,” he said after a moment, “Draxian you say?”

“Yes.” Matt answered slowly, the sound of Kryptonian falling with an ease from his lips that Clark was always jealous of. He could speak his birth language fluently but found he could only do it when someone spoke to him in it first. He couldn’t switch it on at all.

“You must have been asleep for a long time, I’m afraid.” Jor-El mused, “the colonies fell long before Krypton did. It’s a wonder you made it to this planet.”

There’s a tightness in his brother’s shoulders that Clark doesn’t like, and he reached out to him, clasps him comforting on the shoulder, brushing his wrist over Matt’s shoulder, hoping that his scent would help calm him.

“Why not send me back to Krypton? Why send me here?” Matt asks, voice raw, and Clark cuddled in closer to the other Omega’s side, forgoing his shoulder to wrap a comforting arm around his waist.

“I suppose the same reason why I chose Earth for Kal-El; their biological population is very similar to our own. I selected Earth for many reasons, one being that that human’s sexual dynamics mirror our own. Here, you will have a chance at life, at a family. On Krypton…” Jor-El’s expression closed off, eyes stormy, “colonists were not viewed… _well._ In the end, fate was kind, for you surely would have died had you returned to Krypton. But come, there is another matter we must discuss.”

His father leads them through the bowels of the ship, deep into the heart of it, to a room where pods encased every inch of the wall spaces. They were twenty-four in total, all dark, save for two.

“Once,” Jor-El said, voice calm, “these pods carried the very hope of our people. They were our greatest explorers, sent to colonize far reaching worlds and spread the Kryptonain people. They represented our greatest hopes, our greatest ambitions. It was a dangerous mission and many of these such ships were never heard from again. After the ship had crashed, it had begun to power each down each pod to try and maintain critical operations functioning, until only the pods considered most vital remained functional.”

From where they stood, Matt and Clark stared at the small, curled up forms. One was an infant, so tiny she seemed to be floating in the massive pod, her hair a mass of brilliant golds and curls. The other was hardly older, a toddler at best.

The most vital pods, the only children on the ship.

“The babe is Kara-El,” Clark’s head shot up in surprise, mouth opened to ask, but his father only shook his head. “A distant relation at best, this ship departed from Krypton an age ago. The House of El were renowned explore-scientists once, before such a thing was looked on with disgrace among our people. The boy is Lor-Zod, his house was well known for being fierce warriors and they were often paired with explorers as guards. It was this that lead to them becoming one of the most powerful clans of the marital triumvirate on Krypton.”

Jor-El’s smile became almost fragile as he stared at the sleeping pod, almost brittle.

“The Houses of El and Zod were once great allys, though those days died long before Krypton did.” His father turned to look at them, expression placid once more. “They will not survive for long, however, the ship is in its death throes.”

Matt and Clark exchanged a glance, decision already made, and the Kent clan grew by two more.

* * *

Clark doesn’t end up leaving for college until he was twenty-five.

He doesn’t want to leave, not really. Having the children in the house seems to breathe new life into it – at the very least it seems to breathe new life into Ma. Clark hadn’t seen his mother so happy since before his father’s death. She absolutely doted on Kara and Lor, though the name they end up putting on all the papers was ‘Chris’ after Pa’s dad. Chris was old enough to tell them that he’s three, which was young, but not young enough that he didn’t remember his mother and father.

He was a difficult child, absolutely refusing to talk, and Clark swore the boy spends the majority of their first year together hiding from his new family. The tantrums he throws are violent, even before his super strength kicked in, but despite it all – his mother was unending patient with him. Matt spent the most time trying to win Chris over and Clark wondered if its because Matt feels some sort of connection with him from being a colonist himself. He'd come to understand from Jor-El that colonist were viewed as second class citizens by Krypton towards the end and that the very attack that had destroyed Matt's home may have actually been Krypton pecaekeepers. It had been a hard fact for both Matt and Clark to accept.

The town – now used to Martha Kent showing up with new children – took their appearance in stride. There was the usual type of gossip (they think that Ma was too old to be adopting such young children) but that had died down after the first month or so, especially after it leaked that it was Matt’s name on the adoption papers, not Ma’s. Getting the papers were harder now that they were in the digital age, but the ‘guy Ma knew’ who’d doctored first Clark’s, then Matt’s papers had a son who had kept up with the technology and had managed to get it for them for nearly the entirety of what little savings they had.

By the second year together, Chris had finally started to come out of his shell. He still didn’t speak much and after some discussion, the whole family had learned ASL. Chris could speak and understand English, he just chose not to use it most of time, preferring to sign  Clark couldn’t understand _why,_ though. It hadn’t taken long for the toddler or Kara to worm their way into his heart, family now if not by blood but in by being the last of their kind, and Clark couldn’t stand it.

He spent hours at the library, reading anything about child psychology and rearing that he could, just hoping he could find something to help Chris, just something to give him the tools he needed to be successful. Everything he read pointed to some sort of trauma in his past, or maybe just the impact of waking up to learn his family had died. Clark was determined to help him learn to process it and catch up with his peers.

He’d even gotten a job at the local daycare – even if it rankled his nerves to join such a ‘typical’ Omega field. To his surprise though, Clark found that he really liked kids. What’s more, he was good with them.

Like, really good.

He’d never really let go of the idea of college, even now he was looking at child development courses instead of journalism. Still, Clark hadn’t intended to actually do anything about it. His family needed him here, not just to help with the farm, but with the kids. He didn’t actually like Smallville, it felt too confining to him after seeing the world as a whole. But he hadn’t intended to ever leave it. In the end though, Matt had slid a bunch of application packets across the table one morning, his skin a golden tan from working the fields, and gave Clark a grin as he sipped his coffee.

“Pick on, anyone. I don’t care which, but get your ass to college. One of us have to be educated or Ma’s going to think that she’s failed at life.”

Clark stared at the packets before reaching into the bag he kept the small pile of library books and pulled out a similar one to the local community college. He handed it to Matt, grinning at the surprised look on his brother’s face.

“Only if you go back too.” Clark itched his nose, embarrassed. “I know you don’t really want to leave the farm or Ma, but Brandton Tech has a good agriculture degree program and I checked – they accept transfer credits from KeyU.”

Matt barked out a laugh, musing Clark’s hair. “Little shit. Fine, it’s a deal.”

And so, the Kent boys were educated.

* * *

Clark became a nanny because college is expensive. It felt like he’d barely graduated before the debt collectors were knocking on his door, demanding payment. And surprisingly, being a nanny with ASL skills and a complementary degree meant that his paychecks were large. It also helped that he was willing to relocate for a job. He got his first family when he was twenty-eight and grew immediately attached to the Johnsons. Their three kids had a good five years left before they would be independent enough that they didn’t need a nanny, and he enjoyed living in Metropolis.

He could get home any time he wanted too, super sped and flight was a huge perk in that department, so he felt less guilty about leaving Matt behind with a full house. It was hard, in some ways, living in the big city. There was so much crime here and Clark knew – just _knew_ – he could make a difference. And while he still felt guilty hiding his powers, he had a family to think about. He couldn’t take risks anymore, not when he could end up exposing Matt and Kara and Chris too.

Still, he helped where he could.

He tried to be discreet about it, always going out in the suit his father had made for him, doing his best to avoid reporters or cameras. But still, Clark knew he had a reputation, if only by word of mouth. So, he kept his head low and only helped when it seemed like there was no way anyone else was coming to do so. Life settled into a pattern; days for the kids, nights spent with half an ear on their steady little heartbeats, ready to race back home should he hear a single peep, while the other was listening to the city around him.

Clark felt settled; happy.

His life was on track, he had a plan.

But then Frany Johnson got transfer orders, to _Paris,_ and Clark found himself suddenly without a job.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wooh, glad this out. Clark fought me every damn sentence, the jerk.


	3. The Interview, Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I live!!

There was something to say about a simple family day out. Even if very few things in Bruce’s life could ever be considered ‘simple,’ and even less so then when it came to his small brood. As busy as Bruce Wayne’s (not so in-considerably) packed schedule was, he did his damnest to make their Sunday outings. This week it was Tim’s choice on where they went, which was why they were slowly making their way through the rather impressively gothic and Victorian-styled Gotham Zoo and Botanical Gardens. Bruce was enjoying himself; the zoo was renowned for its thick and diverse gardens and small forests that blanketed it like a heavy green blanket, and being so close to the pseudo-woodland left the Alpha feeling content.

In front of him his second eldest, Jason, was enjoying it far less apparently. At sixteen, the young Alpha constantly challenged Bruce on everything and the day had been…trying, to say the least. Having a son that constantly argued with him on everything from what snacks they’d be getting to what exhibit to visit next was exhausting. It made him wish for the sweet, kind little thing Jason had been when Bruce had first adopted him at eight.

True, Jason had always been a child of the streets – hardened young by life with an abusive and more-often-than-not in jail father and an addict mother – but young Jason had always been such a gentle thing at heart, quick to cuddle up to Bruce or Alfred. So eager to please, so _easily_ pleased. Nowadays it seemed like there was nothing Bruce could do right. Even now his second eldest seemed surly and irritated, hands shoved low in the pocket of his long legged grey cargo shorts, a slightly ripped red band t-shirt hanging loosely off his well-muscled form, a ball cap twisted backwards over his short (and _dyed,_ how Alfred had been in an absolute tizzy when he’d found out that Jason had bleached his hair white) hair, beaten up and colorfully taped duck taped shoes kicking at random rocks.

In contrast Dick, Bruce’s oldest at seventeen, was glowing and content, a huge smile on his face as he swung Damian’s and his clasped hands, chatting happily away. Unlike Jason, Dick stayed that sweet, loving boy he’d always been before puberty had struck. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t turning Bruce’s hair grey in his own way. The only Omega in their home, Dick had his first heat at thirteen and the years that had followed could only be described as the teen’s ‘awkward’ phase, but now…now Dick had truly blossomed into his Omegahood; his body honed through years of acrobatic activity to a lithe firmness, and puberty had brought the kind of soft curves that made something inside Bruce twitch with horror. Dick was beautiful, with an unruly mop of black hair and smoky dark eyes, all pale skin with pink hints – pale skin that Dick seemed to have no problem displaying anymore.

Once, his shy little Omega-son hid behind baggy t-shirts and hoodies and now…Bruce gave a passing _(grown, adult)_ Alpha a pleasant smile, all ice, when his eyes lingered just a fraction to long on his son. The Omega was wearing a pair of pale blue jean (so short) shorts, a robin-eggs’ blue t-shirt tied off at the waist to show off a flat stomach, and Dick’s explanation that it was just _so hot_ didn’t quite ring completely true to Bruce. He looked far older than seventeen, especially holding Damian’s hand.

His second youngest at six, everything about Damian screamed his gender. Every inch and Alpha despite his tiny size, Damian walked with an air of grace and control that was usually much more common in someone in their thirties. That didn’t mean he wasn’t adorable. His only child related through blood and not through adoption (though it would be hard to know that by sight – and despite what the press said, it was just simple fate that had led to all his adopted sons carrying his coloring so heavily) Damian was the spitting image of Bruce when he was younger. He had a bit of his mother in his face and tan skin, but his dark hair and dark eyes were all Bruce’s. Even now the little boy looked like it would be more fitting for him to be stalking down some castle walkway than paved paths of a zoo.

He wore a light frown, eyes scanning for threats even as he allowed Dick to swing their hands. The scene was slightly ridiculous, especially when you took in the playful dark green t-shirt with a bright grey elephant on it, grey Bermuda shorts and bright, cheeky yellow Keds that had a repeating banana print on them – which could only possibly be Alfred’s doing.

Cassandra was a shadow at Damian’s side. Their littlest Alpha at only four, she was a naturally quiet child, the muteness she was born with aside. While doctors had assured Bruce that Cassie could in fact speak if she wanted to – that there was nothing physically from keeping her from doing so – she was a nearly always silent child. She seemed unwilling to speak, even when prompted, and relied on ASL to communicate. She didn’t like attention much either, and most of her clothing represented this. She wore a simple pair of jean overalls over a white t-shirt that had a zebra on one sleeve, her face and pale skin protected from the sun by a ball cap that was so small it had seemed lost in Bruce’s large hands.

“Hey, B?” A happy voice asked from his side and Bruce glanced down, taking in his middle child – Tim – a cheerful and joyful ten-year-old who was a bit of a technological prodigy from where he walked next to him. Tim had both hands clasped above his head, the bright, neon yellow of his hat contrasting with his dark grey t-shirt and jean shorts. A pair of well-loved and abused white converses were high-stepping in a slightly foolish looking move, but fitted Tim’s playful attitude to a tee. “Can we get some shaved ice soon? And I kinda gotta pee.”

“I don’t see why not,” Bruce mused, laying his hand on the young Beta’s back in the slightest touch, “but let’s wait on the ice until you meet the nanny.”

It had been the agencies suggestion that they do a test run as a final interview. Apparently, it was to give Bruce a chance to observe the nanny working. He guided Tim towards the nearest bathrooms before calling out to the rest of his sons. He waited patiently outside for Tim, one hand resting on Damian’s shoulder to calm the twitchy boy. Somewhere of the past year or so, Damian had become rather attached to Dick – or, overly attached, if you were to believe Alfred – and Bruce smirked at the fierce scowl on his little Alpha’s face as he watched Dick and Jason bicker.

That relationship was…complicated. There had been several times lately that Bruce had almost begun to wonder if it was less about contrasting personalities and more about the fact that he had two unrelated Alpha and Omega teens residing in his home. Sometimes it almost seemed to Bruce that Jason antagonized Dick just to get a –

 _“Excuse me?”_ A voice suddenly snapped sharply, the words thick with warning and Bruce’s head shot over to wooden divider that lead to the Omega bathrooms. An Omega stood there with his back to Bruce, posture so uncomfortable that Bruce didn’t even need to see his face to pick up on the tension. An Alpha stood in front of him, clad in the khaki and greens of the zoo’s employees, his lips quirked in a self-satisfied smile.

“All come on, don’t be like that. I was just making conversation.”

“Well you can make it somewhere else,” the Omega snarled, his fisted hand tightening.

“Look, pretty-boy. I didn’t mean anything by it,” the Alpha cooed, stepping in closer, “come on, let me show you a good time. I’m just about to get off shift. I’ll show you Gotham, you’ll love it. I don’t even mind if you’ve been a little used, I’ll make you forget every Alpha that came before.”

The Omega’s entire body tensed, fist raising slightly and Bruce was crossing the small distance between them without much thought, hand shooting out to catch the quivering appendage and halting its motion. The Omega’s head snapped to glare at him and…Bruce blinked, the only outward sign of his surprise. The Omega in front of him was stunning; bright, almost inhumanly blue eyes – brightened by the sunlight and the pure fury that radiated out of them – framed by a pair of thick glasses, with perfectly unblemished pale skin, rose pink lips, and a head full of silky looking black curls.

“I think,” Bruce said coldly as he brought the fist back down, grip light, “that it would be best if you moved on,” he made a show of glancing down at the Alpha’s name tag, lips curving in an unimpressed and dismissive smile, _“Steve,_ before you make an even bigger fool of yourself.”

“I think it’s a little too late for that, pops.” Jason said with a snort from his left, grey eyes hard as he glared at the taller Alpha. “Who the fuck talks like that? _‘Used,’_ bah! It’s like 2013.”

“Agreed.” A dark voice added and Bruce’s lips fought a real smile as his youngest son stepped next to Jason, adding his own miniature Alpha-glare. “In my country, you would have had your tongue cut off for saying such a dishonorable thing.”

 _“Ew,_ Dami,” Dick groaned, gently pushing Cass to stand next to the map of the zoo and wait as he joined them, “we’ve got to work on your filter, little man. But,” Dick’s dark eyes snapped up to stare coldly at _Steve,_ “he’s not wrong. Kind of a mean thing to say, don’t you think? Rude even.”

“Totally frickin’ rude.” Jason agreed, arms crossing as his shoulders puffed up in threat.

The apparent combined glares of Bruce’s little clan appeared too much for _Steve,_ who muttered an apology and scampered off. Next to him, the Omega let out a deep breath – a mix of a groan and a sigh.

“Uh, thank you. That was just…”

“Nasty,” Dick finished for him, nose crinkling. “I hate Alphas like that.”

“Tell me about it.” The Omega said with a laugh. He swung those baby blues back over to Bruce and the Alpha felt his hand twitch slightly at the roguish yet embarrassed smile he was given. “Thank you for your help. I mean, I had it under control, but I really wouldn’t have liked to hit someone in front of all these kids.”

“No problem.” Bruce said with a shrug, shoving the twitching hand into his shorts’ pocket.

“Clark Kent,” the Omega offered, extending his hand.

Bruce took it, feeling his eyebrows rise slightly when Clark’s head cocked to the side a moment later, confused. It took him a moment to truly grasp it, but Bruce realized with a small trill of surprise that Clark didn’t know who he was. A rarity in his life and he caught Dick and Jason exchanging bemused looks behind the Omega. Perhaps not that odd, though, as the Omega wore an old _Metropolis Monarchs_ t-shirt.

“Clark Kent?” Bruce asked, amused, “you wouldn’t happen to be a nanny, would you?”

Clark colored a bright red. “Oh man, you’re Bruce Wayne, aren’t you?” He brought a hand up to his face, clearly embarrassed. “Oh jeez.”

“Guilty as charged,” Bruce said with a smirk. “These are my sons; my eldest Dick, my second eldest Jason, my two youngest Damian and Cassandra, and my other middle son, Tim, is-”

“Hey guys! What did I miss?” Tim asked as he popped out of the bathroom, brows furrowed. “Oh, man. I totally missed something didn’t I?”

“Kids, this is Clark Kent. He may be your nanny and will be spending the day with us to get to know everyone.” Bruce introduced, watching with a fond smile as Tim’s focus zeroed in on the newest member of their group. He immediately began asking questions at a rapid-fire pace.

Dick saved the poor man, draping himself over Tim. “Breathe, little bird. Remember to let him actually answer before you ask.”

Clark just smiled, answering the questions in the order they were asked, before turning to Cassandra and signing a hello. The little girl’s face lit up, her hands shyly waving back. To Bruce’s utter surprise, the little girl stepped forward and held her hands up to be held. Clark’s practically glowed he was smiling so brightly, signing a quick _‘can you ask me with your words?’_

To which Cassandra pouted but signed back _‘please pick me up, my feet hurt.’_

Clark turned to Bruce, eyebrows raised. “Is it okay if I pick her up?”

“By all means, today's about you getting to know the kids and seeing if it’s a good fit.” Bruce allowed with a nod, though it was already a fairly strong yes in his book. Cassandra was not a social girl and very rarely opened up to anyone so quickly.

Clark gave him another winning smile before lifting Cass up by her armpits and swinging her up, sending the little girl into squeals of silent laughter.

“I vote for some place with air for our next stop.” Jason said loudly, arms crossed grumpily across his chest. “Like the Bug or the Cat House.”

“Bug House!” Tim nearly shrieked, hands waving wildly. “I vote for Bug House!”

“Ew,” Dick said, nose wrinkled. “Really, Timmy?”

“What?” Tim said quickly, defensively, “I like bugs.”

“I like bugs, too.” Clark offered, his smile somewhat softer but no smaller as he watched the pair. “And air conditioning would be a nice change of pace.” The Omega winced, cheeks pinking slightly. “I mean, uh, that is – I’m down with wherever the kids want to go I....sorry, I’m a little thrown. That wasn’t how I imagined us meting.”

Bruce felt his lips pull in a real smile, feeling charmed by the Omega’s rambles despite himself. Clark was certainly not what Bruce had pictured when he thought of a nanny. To be honest, he was expecting some sort of bookish type of Omega maiden-aunt not…this. He was different then the Omegas and Betas Bruce usually interacted with; delicate, slim things that were as vapid or shallow as their beauty was. He cocked his head to side slightly, taking in the well-muscled form only just hinted at by Clark’s baggy t-shirt and the long, lean legs put on display by his short (yet still age-appropriate) shorts. If he had to peg him, Bruce would put the younger man in his late twenties.

They began their walk to the bug house, Damian and Jason as the front, while Tim and Dick hung behind. Bruce eyed Clark from where the Omega kept pace next to him, eyes cast up to observe the peacocks that were roosting in the treetops around him, pointing them out to Cassandra in his arms.

“So, are you from Metro originally?”

“Hm? Oh, no. Kansas, actually. I moved to Metro for college. I started a little later than most, so I only graduated two years ago.”

“Why the late start?”

“Well, my dad died.” Clark said, voice even in a way that Bruce was intimately familiar with, the way one did when speaking about an old wound you didn't want to discuss, “and my ma needed some help with the farm. I guess my brother and I were just reluctant to leave her after that. She probably was ready for us to go and stop hovering, but we weren’t.” Clark amended with a laugh. “I worked for a family in Metropolis for a while, but they were recently transferred out of the country and I couldn’t go with. My goodness, is it always this hot in July in Gotham? Metropolis gets hot, but not humid like here.”

“It’s one of the hotter months on record this year,” Bruce offered, both hands in his pockets, “but I’m afraid the humidity is a Gotham staple.”

“There’s a really cool ice rink we could go to!” Tim said from where he suddenly appeared next to Clark’s side. “I play hockey there on the weekends and sometimes Dickie does his ice skating there.”

Clark startled slightly, but took the hyperactive pre-teen’s appearance in stride. “You play hockey, huh? I used to play a bit myself. I was never on a team, but me and the neighbor kids used to spend all winter on Crestview Pond once it froze over. What position do you play?”

There was a dramatic groan from ahead of them. “Now he’s done it; Tim’ll never shut up now.”

“Jason.” Bruce warned lightly and smirked at grumbling that earned him. Next to him, Tim was in full swing about his team, growing even more animated when he found out that Clark played goalie as well.

Yes. Sunday’s were nice.

* * *

The day was just starting to truly heat up, the sun climbing higher in the sky and reflecting off the paved trails of the zoo and causing a drip of sweat to trail down Jason’s neck and between his shoulder blades, and the young Alpha groaned in relief when they stepped into the air-conditioned rooms of the Bug House.

“Thank fucking god,” he drawled, fanning himself with his cap, “central air.”

There was an annoyed sigh from behind him and Jason glanced back to glare at his adoptive father’s looming form. Jason was tallest of the assorted Wayne boys at 6’1, but Bruce still had him by three inches. It was annoying.

“What?” Jason snapped, but his father’s eyes only narrowed glaringly.

“Pretty sure he’s talking your foul sailor’s mouth there, Jaybird.” Dick quipped as he passed by, Jason did his best not to stare after him; Dick was wearing a pair of cut off shorts that hugged his hips and – a small body checked his side harshly, jerking him back a foot and knocking attention from the Omega.

Damian glared up him, his expression a perfect duplicate of Bruce’s own. “You smell poorly, Todd.”

“Shut up, runt.” Jason grunted, reaching down to harshly mess the tiny Alpha’s hair. Damian cursed in his native tongue, his thumb shooting up with pinpoint precision against a pressure point on Jason’s arm, making it go temporarily numb. The older Alpha cursed, shoving the smirking boy away with his good hand. “Little freak.”

“Better not have been talking about our baby bird.” Dick asked, voice pleasant but with a thick undercurrent of warning. Jason swung on his adoptive brother, a sneer and rebuke halting on his lips at the sight of both Dick smiling happily down at the baby in a nearby carriage, waving at her. The image made his heart thud and he felt heat crawl up over his neck.

He pushed past the pair, joining Damian at an Oriental Cockroach exhibit with a disgruntled, “whatever. They have these back home, kid?”

Damian nodded, never tearing his eyes off the information plaque. Jason rolled his eyes, stuffing his hands in his pocket as he glanced around, already bored. He felt his eyebrows raise slightly at the sight of the Omega they’d picked up – Clark, apparently their new nanny – bent over at the waist, staring into the lower part of the fire ant colony wall. Tim and Cassandra were by his side on their knees, faces all but pressed against the glass, but it was _Bruce_ that Jason was watching. His adoptive father’s head was cocked ever so slightly to the side, pose utterly casual in disinterested, but he was – without a doubt – staring at Clark’s ass. Jason chortled, reaching behind him and pulling Dick from where he was standing.

“Jason, you are so rude.”

“Shut up. You seeing this?”

Dick followed his point, his expression melting from annoyance to amusement. “Are you just now noticing that, Jaybird? And here you always brag about your situational awareness.”

“Are we speaking of father’s interest in bedding the Omega?” Damian asked and Jason burst out laughing even as Dick made a choking sound.

“Damian, we have _got_ to work on your filter.”

Their youngest brother’s brows furrowed, but said nothing else. Dick’s hand reached out, stroking the short hair. “We usually keep comments like that to ourselves, but yes, that is what we were talking about.”

“Father often takes lovers.” Damian said with a shrug, going back to the bug plaque. Jason exchanged an amused look with Dick. The youngest Wayne was so literal.

“Clark’s kind of vanilla for the mighty Bruce Wayne, dontcha think?” Jason asked. “Besides, Clark is going to be our ‘nanny,’” like they even needed one, “and you know B isn’t going to fuck with the help.”

“Well, yeah. But that’s what makes it all that much more interesting.” Dick said with a smirk. “I think dear old dad may like _like_ him.”

“Like _like?”_ Jason parroted, “What are we in third grade, Dickie?”

“Stick something in it, Jay.” The Omega said pleasantly, “I just meant it’s a refreshing change of pace. Besides, it’d be nice to see Bruce get in something that could possibly even resemble a healthy relationship.”

“Somehow I don’t think our nighttime activities allows for ‘healthy relationships.’”

“Todd is correct,” Damian offered as he moved onto the next exhibit, “emotional entanglements only lead to complications to the mission.”

“Cold little brat.” Jason mumbled, somewhat fondly, as he followed.

“Well, I don’t believe that at all.” Dick said primly, “I don’t think it has to be one or the other.”

“Yeah, cause that worked so well with _Andy.”_

His Omega sibling shot him a disgruntled look. “His name was Andrew. And stop bringing up my exes, or I’ll start including your own. Oh. Wait. You’ve never dated anyone.”

The grin he gave Dick could only be described as lewd. “One night stands don’t need dates, sweetheart.”

“God you’re disgusting.”

“Who’s disgusting?” Bruce asked as the two groups merged.

“Jason is.” Dick said without missing a beat. “I told you not to adopt him.”

“You’re adopted?” Clark asked in surprise. Holy hell, Jason thought in awe, this guy really has no idea who they were. Wild.

“We are all, except for Dami.” Dick explained, pulling the two boys tightly against his chest. Damian instantly began to try and shove Tim violently away. “Though Bruce probably could have skipped Jay and moved straight onto Timmy.”

“Nice.” Jason said dryly, arms crossing in a huff.

“I think you guys are a sweet family.” Clark offered, something kind and amused in his grin as he watched his three brothers. It was totally innocent, but Jason was weirdly bothered by it. Like, who the hell was this Clark Kent to pass any judgement on them at all? He was their employee _._ “I was adopted myself. My Ma and Pa got me shortly after they found they couldn’t have any kids of their own, and my older brother was adopted a few years later. Best gift I ever got.”

“You were adopted too? That’s so cool! I’ve never met anyone else who was adopted outside of our family.” Tim gushed, gracefully twisting and sliding free from Dick’s grip. “You wanna come look at the bat exhibit with me? They’ve got a bigger one in the Nocturnal House, but they got a little one here too.”

Jesus, they had to stop giving Tim any type of sugar.

Clark just laughed though, allowing the Beta to tug him away by the arm, Bruce following leisurely behind them with Cassie. Damian, attention undoubtedly grabbed by the idea of seeing bats outside of the cave, followed a step behind his father. Jason watched them go, shaking his head at just how much the two Alphas resembled each other.

“Jay.”

“What?”

Dick rolled his eyes, barely looking up from where he was texting on his phone. “What’s got you in such a dick mood? Do you think you could lighten up a little bit?”

“I’m not doin’ anything.”

“You’ve been a bitch the whole day. It was Timmy’s week to choose and we went to see that stupid movie you wanted to see last weekend.” Jason just shook his head, fishing his cigarettes out and shaking the pack before eying the exit. A small but strong hand rested over his own. He glanced down to find Dick staring up at him with a frown. “I hate it when you smoke.”

“Yeah, well I hate the zoo.” Jason said flatly, shaking the hand loose and walking towards the exit, a cigarette already hanging loose from his lips. “Tough shit, right?”

It was still stupidly hot out, but the promise of nicotine made it worth it and Jason eagerly lit up, flicking off short Alpha woman with the standard ‘let me talk to a manager’ bob when she gave him the evil eye. He only smoked half of it, aware that he risked being caught by Bruce if he finished a whole stick, and popped gum in his mouth before heading back in to find his family.

He’d wandered through most of building, entering the water insect exhibit towards the exit when he finally caught sight of someone. Dick was leaning against a mural of a swamp, hands folded behind his hips in a manner that made them jut out just so, smiling coyly up at a hulking blond that was leaning over him, one arm resting just above the short Omega’s head. Jason’s eye twitched as he stalked across the show room.

Dick caught sight of him, brows furrowing in confused surprise just before Jason intercepted the pair. He slid his arm around Dick’s waist, physically moving him out from underneath the Alpha’s form. The blond teen swung to glare at him, though he faltered at the look on Jason’s face.

“What the hell, Jay?”

He ignored the outraged Omega, just as he tried to ignore the feel of Dick’s hips moving under his palm as he lead them away. “Come on, Dickie. We’re gonna get left behind.”

“What the fuck?” Dick seethed, yanking Jason’s hand from his hip and swirling on him. “I was just about to get his number!”

“Don’t be such a slut in public, Dick.”

If possible, the Omega turned even redder. “Excuse me? What did you just call me?”

A hand fisted his shirt front, dark eyes glaring heatedly up at him, but Jason just blew a bubble, popping it loudly. “Think ya heard me, _big bro.”_

“Say it again.” Dick said, tone dark and deadly. “I fucking dare you.”

Jason sneered, leaning down until they were nose to nose, boxing his shoulders to illuminate the height difference between them. “I said-”

“Boys.” The sound of Bruce’s frigid voice froze them both in their tracks, the anger fizzling between them quieting under apprehension. They both glanced over, swallowing at the flat look on their adoptive father’s face. “I was starting to wonder if you two had gotten lost. Not misbehaving, are we?”

“No, of course not.”

“Not much.”

The two teenagers glared at each other. Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “…an extra of hour of training for both of you later.”

“What-”

“Bruce-”

“Two hours.” The Alpha interrupted, his tone non-negotiable. “Together. To help you two cool off. Now come on. Clark and the kids have already headed over to the Cat House.”

* * *

Clark sighed as he maneuvered a passed out Cassandra back into Dick’s waiting arms, smiling fondly as the sleeping girl didn’t even twitch at the move. She was completely asleep, a full day of zoo activities and walking. The Waynes were a nice family and Clark hoped they hired him. Dick was charming and sweet, and self-aware in a way that very few in his age group ever were. He was also fantastic with his siblings, a natural maternal streak a mile wide.

Tim was utterly adorable; he was so full of energy and excitement, and unbelievably smart. He knew quite a bit about science, particularly computer technology, but seemed to know a hell of a lot about most fields, which was remarkable for a ten-year-old. Jason was a little bit rougher around the edges than his brothers, but Clark believed him to be a very loving boy in his own way. It was hard to believe otherwise with how he’d hardly hesitated in sweeping an exhausted and sleepy Tim off his feet, swinging his younger brother up into a piggyback from where the Beta had almost instantly fallen asleep.

Like his brother, Damian seemed a surly child, but perhaps that was just his natural attitude from the way he interacted with his family. He seemed rather attached to Dick, always walking near the oldest Wayne boy, and he was practically leaning into Bruce’s form as he walked next to his father now, stubbornly refusing to be carried or admit that he was tired. Maybe he was just shy? Clark hadn’t been the easiest kid to get to know when he’d been Damian’s age. He understood why his profile said he’d need to be home school and taken to regular therapy appointments, though. He wasn’t clear on Damian’s upbringing with his mother, but it was clear that it had left him to develop in some…interesting…ways.

Cassandra was just the sweetest little girl. There was a lot of work to be done with her as well. Trauma did complicated things to children, but they were also incredibly resilient. Speech therapy was a must – well, therapy in general was a must – as was widening her vocabulary of ASL. She reminded him a lot of Chris, even outside of the familiar and shared diagnosis. She was just as tender and kind, always so eager to be acknowledged and brought into the conversation or days events, even if she was half terrified of doing it.  

And Bruce…Clark steadfastly refused to think too much about Bruce. The Alpha was stupidly handsome. And built. Despite his causal outfit, Clark could easily see the outline of muscle beneath it and even if he couldn’t, his short sleeves showed off forearms that were – _stop it._ What was wrong with him? Here he was, lusting after a man probably ten years his senior. This could be his _boss._ Clark rolled his eyes at his own stupidity, pushing the attraction away and willing it to die.

The Alpha took Cassandra easily, moving past Clark as one of the valets (because of course there were valets at the zoo, this was Gotham) pulled up in a Porsche SUV. Clark didn’t even know that Porsche made a SUV. The Alpha opened the door, stepping to the side as his children began to pile in. He turned to Clark, hands on his hips.

“The agency mentioned you’re in Gotham until next Sunday?” Bruce asked, his low voice making a shiver run down an embarrassed Clark’s spine.

“Till Saturday, actually. I’m taking the bus back Saturday afternoon.” He explained, humming slightly. He wasn’t looking forward to it. Metropolis was a three-hour ride. “I took a week’s vacation to see the city, even if you don’t offer me the job I’ve always wanted to visit Gotham.” Clark bit his lip, “I would love a chance to work for you, Mr. Wayne.”

“Bruce, please.”

“Uh, Bruce. Your children are wonderful and I think we had a good connection. But I understand if you’d like to take more time for your decision. I also thought since I will be in Gotham for the week, if you like we could do more outings together so you can observe me with the children. I just want you to be comfortable.”

Bruce watched him for a long moment, before his lips quirked up in a one-sided grin. “The kids are planning on visiting Gotham’s Natural History Museum tomorrow. They have teacher’s work day at school and will be off, and a visiting exhibit last day is soon.” Bruce offered, “it’s fairly well reviewed. You’re welcome to come with them. It’s early in the morning, though. Around eight.”

“Oh, wow.” Clark blinked in surprise, “yeah, that sounds amazing. I didn’t have anything planned for tomorrow anyway.”

“So, no exciting dinner plans I take it?”

Clark laughed. “Hardly. Not much, honestly. I’ll probably have an early night, order in and take advantage of the hotel’s HBO.”

“Sounds boring.” Jason offered, engrossed by his cell phone.

“Good thing no one asked you, Jay.” Dick shot back, expression fierce. Clark hid his grin; those two had some serious unresolved tension going on. He was glad he’d found out they weren’t really related (and why hadn’t the agency included that they were adopted in their profiles, well, it wasn’t important) or else that could have gotten awkward. He wondered if Bruce realized what was going on there…“Hey, you could join us for dinner!’ Dick all but chirped, leaning out of the SUV. “Can’t he, Bruce?”

Bruce’s lips twitched, the Alpha clearly amused. “The more the merrier, I suppose.”

“Oh, no – I couldn’t possibly-”

“Come on, Clark!” Dick all but begged, “it’ll be fun. The food where we’re going is tops, and it has crazy good views of the bays and the city. And it’ll be a great way for us to get to know you better!”

Clark bit his lip, unsure. With the type of places that SUV spoke of, he probably couldn’t afford wherever they were going. “I’m, uh, sort of on a fixed budget.”

There was that ghost of a smile on Bruce’s lips again. “Don’t worry about that, it’ll be our treat. Seriously, Clark. My invite, I pay.”

Clark bit his lip; going out to a somewhere sounded fun and it would give him a chance to spend more times with the kids. And Clark _really_ needed this job. He was desperate to make a good impression on Bruce. The pay for this job was _insane._ Like, more annually than Clark usually made in two years.

He wanted it bad.

“If you're sure, I’d love to come.”

Bruce just grinned, opening the SUV’s front passenger door. “I hope you like Italian.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed it. Dick is totally already shipping Bruce/Clark.


End file.
